


rendezvous

by JOGGENye



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JOGGENye/pseuds/JOGGENye
Summary: Stan's feeling kinda down, so he talks with some of his favorite team members and helps learn more about both himself and the world. And he's lowkey pining after Michalis 24/7.





	rendezvous

There really wasn't anybody who was willing to be around him, Stan knew. His friends only stuck around because he pretends to be the most relatable and funny guy of them all. Fuck, he doesn't even really talk to most of them, anymore. They were useless anyway, in comparison to his other friends-allies-soldiers-whatever. It didn’t really matter where they came from; they listened and understood, and that was really the best part. Stan, of course, does his best to reciprocate; but falls short more often than not. 

* * *  
Joshua-

Joshua leads the team, and he's great for a quick drink or a card game. Stan didn't know it was even possible to defile Uno, but Joshua always found a way- a cutthroat, scarily accurate way. Joshua kinda reminds Stan of himself, except Joshua does everything with a charming, witty flare. If he were around in ‘modern times’, he’d be a loner who was never truly alone- like a movie where the grungy delinquent became prom king or something. The gambling habit offput his natural charisma, Stan thinks. The guy isn’t bad on the eyes either, though Stan wasn’t sure if he’d want to pursue that avenue. One mentally scarred redhead was enough.

 

Not too long ago, right after Stan put up the chore schedule (the only real reason he kept around what he thought of as fodder, honestly), Joshua slinked by like a jaguar and hooked his chin on Stan’s shoulder, humming.

“Hello, Summoner.”

Joshua was too close to just be exchanging pleasantries. Usually, he wouldn't even say a word, and just analyze Stan. The man was very good at seeing through him. “What’s up?”

“Well, I see that I have no chores whatsoever. I gotta wonder why, Summoner?”

Stan sighed and said, “Because you busy yourself with training, and training contributes- albeit in a different way then chores- to the entire castle, and our campaign as a whole. Honestly, you are one of the most consistent people in this army, especially when training time comes to be represented on the battlefield.”

The mercenary grinned, hooked his arm around Stan’s other shoulder, and said, “Heh, no need for such a long description. Honestly, did you practice that in front of a mirror?”

Stan slipped his notebook full of motivating speech phrases back into his pocket with a deftness that only came from practice and stated, “I like to inspire the entire army. After all, I am the recruitment officer and tactician combined; I’d better know what to say.”

“Yet, you wouldn’t give such a powerful spiel to just anyone. Really, there’s no need to keep up appearances. We all know you have a bad case of nepotism.”

“I don’t!” Stan was slightly shocked by Joshua bringing such a subject up directly; the man was usually far more subtle, like he’d been in the conversation previously, and in conversations previous.

“‘Thy lady doth protesteth too much’, Summoner.” He chuckled to himself, adjusting himself closer, probably to be creepy on purpose. Stan was quickly getting more and more suspicious of his motivations. “Seriously, though, Summoner, why do you have laundry duty five times within this week? One must wonder, do you sniff the women’s underg-”

“Joshua, if you finish that sentence, I swear to the gods that I will end you as painfully as possible.”

Joshua chuckled a bit more before he sobered, still grinning, and said, “What about the mens’? I mean, you and Michalis are already attached at the hip, so I don’t see why you’d want such a roundabout way of accessing his, but-”

“Okay, you are starting to sound like Niles. You need to stop.” Stan wanted to crawl into a little hole and just die. Dying sounded amazing. He stepped away. “Wh-why are you-”

The other man’s expression became more serious, before stating, “I notice how you avoided the whole Michalis issue.”

Stan flinched, and pretended as if he didn’t. Knowing Joshua was probably just doing this on some dare (since he never turns them down, the damned gambler) didn’t make him feel any better. Of course, Joshua filed his reaction away and leaned in a bit, like a cat who just became intrigued with its quarry- maybe he’d gotten the reaction he’d wanted? But then, he became completely sobered again and said:

“Okay, lookie here: I don’t think it’s a good idea, getting involved with one of your underlings- don’t look so shocked, Summoner, we are your underlings- and lemme tell you why. You’re gonna get your heart broken and you’re gonna come to me and in between my whispered words of encouragement I’m going to say I told you so.” For all of the redhead’s talk about pre-planning hypothetical exchanges, that certainly felt well rehearsed.

Stan looked and felt affronted. “I’d go to Zephiel- or, or Valter, even- before I’d go to you for comfort for a nonexistent relationship’s breakup.”

Joshua looked just as affronted and said, “Hey, I give better hugs than those guys!” Then, continuing louder and louder, “And I know you two have a thing, because I saw him grab your butt!”, the final words shouted.

Silence echoed throughout the fortress's dank and cold hallways. 

Stan took another step away from Joshua, and glared. “Sex doesn’t constitute a relationship.” He clutched his right hand to his left arm. 

Glaring right in turn, Joshua tipped his hat down (a move Stan’s come to associate with Joshua creating some amount of distance), but then his gaze softened. “Stan, I really am concerned, okay? I know this is prepubescent girl dramatics and all, but… I just can’t help myself but to care.”

After a moment, Stan grabbed one of his coat’s corners and pulled it closer. The air felt chillier. Stan felt very, very cold, and nothing else. “Anyway, I answered your question about the choretables, and I need to strategize for the new outrealms’ battles.”

 

Luckily, Stan was able to sub in an Ike for the upcoming battle to be a meatshield (Joshua’s usual purpose), and continued avoiding Joshua (mostly in the usually undesirable ‘real’ world), until a few days later. 

“Hey, Summoner! Wait up, wait up,” Stan heard from behind him. 

The tactics meeting had gone well (Reinhardt always suggested such sound strategies, but they were always foiled by enemies with repositioning skills) and such a swell, non-Narcian-interrupted-time had left him in a good mood. Even with that, he pretended not to hear Joshua’s cry, and stepped up his pace just the slightest bit.

“Hey, I know you heard me, you asshole!” Gods, Joshua sounded pissed. Or hurt. That wasn’t gonna be a good thing to get involved in. Usually, Joshua covers up anger with his odd humor or bets. 

Stan rounded one corner, then another, then an intersection, where he went in the opposite direction of his rooms purposefully, and then made his way to the training grounds. Just as he entered a lower population portion of the castle (ready for new units, as he’s made sure of, repeatedly) he felt something trip him, and he tumbled to the floor. 

Of course, it was just Joshua stood above him, leg extended, but he crouched down quickly, then took a seat on the floor, close to where Stan had been splayed. “Heya, now. Sorry ‘bout that, I guess. I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me for the past while. Is it because of our talk?” He seemed far more calm now. Hopefully he wouldn't press… uncomfortable subjects. Stan didn't have a lot of hope, though. Joshua, for all his deft bladework, can be terribly blunt.

Stan heaved a sigh and went, “Yeah, sorry. It just… weirded me out.”

“Which part?” Joshua slid one arm to hold a leg to his chest, allowing the other one to push out. Stan fully sat down an arm’s length away.

“The Michalis part. It isn’t… Gods, I don’t want to talk about this.”

The mercenary stared.

“...Fine. Guess I will,” Stan said, rubbing his arms. “We fuck. That’s it.”

Joshua raised his eyebrows, and said, “Sure. You know, I don’t think you’re even fooling yourself. But I’ll drop it. I do have another question, however.”

“Okay.” Stan felt surprised at the subject change. Maybe he had sensed his unease at talking further about Michalis?

“Why do you concentrate so much of your efforts on me? I’m not that great of an asset. I’m not very good at all, actually. Yet, I wake up and I literally have dozens of skills that you granted me- skills that I know you did, and that are very valuable and rare. I find that kinda weird, Summoner.”

The black-haired man was just grateful he didn’t inquire where the skills come from. Hopefully he could explain this away without getting accused of nepotism again. Again. God, why did he let his units get close to him? “I just… You are a very… unique ally, that has special, um…”

Pushing his hat back, Joshua stared down with a smirk and said, “I’m one of your favorites. Not that I’m complaining, of course. Poor Marisa never gets used. And Tobin. And Masked Marth. Do you have any idea who’s under the mask?”

“Yeah, I guess you are one of my favorites.” Joshua grinned at that, and motioned for Stan to continue. “Uh, I think it’s just Marth under the mask. Masked Marth without the mask equals Marth, right?”

Lucina rounded the corner, turned around, and went back the way she came.

The two exchanged glances and Stan wondered aloud, “Why did she act like that?”

Joshua shrugged. “Lucina always acts weird whenever Masked Marth is around.”

“They do look a lot alike. It’s probably the family resemblance.”

Joshua pushed himself up suddenly, and held out a hand for Stan. “Y’know,” he began as Stan took the help and stood up himself, “I’m happy that you like me so much, Summoner.” He grinned without a trace of his usual sarcasm.Instead, fondness was the main drive behind the smile, Stan thought. The thought burned a hole of anxiety in his stomach, or maybe that was just a influx of platonic affection.

“‘Y’know’, my name isn’t Summoner.”

“Really?” The usual quirk of wit returned to the mercenary’s face.

“It’s Stan.”

Joshua looked surprised, then grinned wildly. “I’m glad you think highly enough of me to tell me your name, Summoner.” Then, he looked down, and said, “This day has been such a gamble, heh. Glad I took it.”

 

* * *

 

Reinhardt-

He didn’t start using Reinhardt until about three months after first obtaining him. He’d heard about Reinhardt being the strongest unit that was readily summonable through chats with other visiting units (according to many, many sword users, he terrorized the arenas), and his team needed a blue unit that didn’t attempt to slaughter its allies, anyway, like Peri was subject to do. Then Reinhardt started talking with him. Not too much at first, but over time, Reinhardt eventually came to him with issues. Like the leader he is, Stan helped him through things like redeveloping a lasting bond with his little sister, Olwen, after differing ideals and loyalties had driven them apart. Reinhardt was a really cool dude- he likes futuristic and fantasy novels, and is the easiest to talk to of the team, oddly enough. A relationship with him wasn’t ideal, either, though; the man has too small hands and voice. He’d probably treat sex more like a battlefield than anything else, and that wasn’t exactly desirable for Stan. He prefers passion over strategy in the bedroom.

 

It was a battleday, verses some heroes that had become possessed, or something. He just sort of assumed, honestly; everyone has seen enough anime to know what purple and blue energy waves meant, right?

In any case, Stan pulled out his megaphone (originally only for use in emergencies, but ‘emergencies’ turned out to be every round on the battlefield) and shouted, “Okay, team… I-hate-my-life! To the front, please!”

Nobody came over, though Alphonse gave him a questioning glance. He should know by now how Stan felt about his seemingly meaningless existence from their strategy meetings.

He sighed into the megaphone on accident, causing a whir of feedback, cringed, and said, “Okay! The whole point of team names is to be able to assemble units quickly. Guess that won’t happen without my usual team.” Michalis had been rendered sick and Olivia had stayed behind to help care for the sick (something she was quite adamant about, which Stan found very odd, as usually her protectiveness over him trumped all else), which left him scrambling to find units for the newest wave of battles. “Alright! Reinhardt! Azura… no, get your cool costume on, the one with the axe- there. Ike… Nah, we only need the buff one with the sword. Sorry, fellas. And… Elise. Don’t worry, don’t worry, no need to change into your swimsuit. It’s too cold for that.” The desired units filtered over.

“Gods, I didn’t realise I was seeing the future when I named the team ‘I-hate-my-life’,” Stan mumbled. “Alrighty- Ike, why don’t you get o...ver… there…” He trailed off, eyes widening at the impeding arrow, before ducking out of the way. His annoyance was building quickly.

“Naga, they usually give us time to prepare. That’s beyond rude.”

Reinhardt gave him a look. “They’re the enemy. Of course they’ll be firing at you, Summoner.”

“Hey, I give them time to get into little formations. That’s what everybody does, right?”

“Well, it isn’t realistic to the reality of war,” Azura said, clutching her axe close, ready for battle. Everybody was, except for him.

“Alright- you know what?” He threw his carefully crafted strategies on the snow-covered ground, both figuratively and literally. “Have fun. Just try not to get yourself killed.”

While they were busy decimating the opposing force, Stan opened up a lawn chair he had the foresight to bring with him on every battle these days and sat down, playing on his phone.

 

He saw Reinhardt gallop towards him ten or fifteen minutes later. “Come, we need to leave. We barely managed to elude the generals- and they’re in pursuit.” He dismounted and started physically pushing Stan into mounting. Stan quickly pocketed his phone out of instinct.

“Hhhh-what?” Stan looked behind him, and was met by Reinhardt’s grave expression. And an enemy armor unit literally performing a jump over another, far too close for comfort. Pivots always freaked both him and Reinhardt out on account of how unexpected they were.

The mage’s eyes narrowed, and he shoved Stan over the rear of the horse, before getting back on himself. Stan quickly scooted into the empty space that Reinhardt offered behind him and held onto the saddle for dear life.

“Go! Go!” Reinhardt spurred the horse into a gallop, causing Stan to jump and hold onto Reinhardt’s middle. 

Stan looked behind him, and his eyes widened and misted over with tears. “My chair…” The tactician felt remorseful. That chair had been so comfortable! Even when they had to run before, Stan always managed to grab it.

Reinhardt’s hands momentarily tightened on the reigns, causing a moment of confusion with the horse before the mage gave another command for the horse to gallop. Stan noted absently in between his grief over losing his favorite seat that Michalis’ wyvern never slowed down when the king would angrily grabbed the reigns.

“Summoner, would you rather it be your chair or your life?” Reinhardt said, sending a quick glare over his shoulder at Stan.

“I know, I know, I’m just a bit sad. That chair had been there for me more than my parents.”

Reinhardt attempted to stifle a laugh. He and Joshua always laughed at his ‘all the authoritative figures in my life suck’ jokes, which was cool of him, but also left Stan wondering. 

The two rode on a while longer and into a forested cover before Stan inquired, “Do we know where the others are?”

Reinhardt looked back at him after nudging his poor horse to slow to a trot, “no. I’ve honestly haven’t the first clue. I was just more concerned with getting you out alive, Summoner.”

“Nah, you’re cool, dude.” Stan looked around at the snowy region. “What are we going to do?”

The steed had laid down and started to sleep, obviously not sensing any danger. Poor thing must’ve been exhausted. Reinhardt sat down against it and patted the ground next to him. “I don’t think they’ll pursue us this much, especially into the trees.”

Stan nodded and hunkered down next to the mage and horse. Reinhardt snatched a satchel out of one of his saddlebags, pulled out a wool blanket, and threw it over the both of them.

“You can come closer. I think your favorite wyvern rider wouldn’t mind in these circumstances,” Reinhardt said, quirking a rare, rather creepy, grin. Stan has never been sure if those were intentional or not.

Stan nodded absently, scooching until his thigh hit the older man’s. He clutched at the blanket and said, “Why is everyone under the impression that Michalis is my favorite? I don’t have favorites. No matter what Joshua says, I don’t have even a smudge of favoritism.”

“Hmm, sure, which is why you were completely lost in today’s battle without Michalis. We were all very concerned that your strategy would reflect that. I am rather thankful you left us to our own devices.” The other man seemed more amused than anything else on a surface level, but Stan could see something else reflected there.

“Okay, have you ever considered that Michalis has excellent strategies? And-and-and-” Stan cut himself off by attempting to stifle a sneeze, and sprayed himself like a child instead. 

Reinhardt pulled Stan’s hands away from his weirdly flushed face and started wiping at it with a handkerchief and asked, “You aren’t falling ill, are you?” 

“God- er, gods, I hope not. There’s just too much to do back at the castle,” Stan mumbled, shivering slightly.

Reinhardt gazed at him for a moment before tucking the cloth back in one of his pockets. “Your work ethic leaves nothing to be desired, Summoner. Always working so hard to provide for the rest of us… At least, that’s probably why you think you do so much.” He grabbed another blanket and draped it over Stan. “I believe… I may be overstepping my boundaries as one of your assets- your unit.”

Stan shrugged and said, “I mean, can’t be anything worse than what my mother tells me.”

“There it is. You depreciate yourself far too much.” Reinhardt then made sure to look him straight in the eye. “And you expect to be praised for it, gain validation from whom you consider to be your peers. Forgive me for saying this, Summoner, but you go too far. Sometimes it is funny, yes, but sometimes, we don’t wish to hear of Uncle Bob or Aunt Tammy or anybody else.”

“I-I guess I do do that a lot.’’

The mage started tugging Stan’s hood around him tighter, eyebrows furrowing. He looked… disappointed? Was Stan supposed to say something else? Change the subject?

Around half an hour went by with little trouble (Reinhardt patrolled the parameter and Stan played on his phone again, bundled up against the dozing mass of the other man’s horse for warmth) when they both heard shouting. 

“Summoner- wake up the horse, quick,” Reinhardt sounded panicked, knocking Stan out of his sense of security. Stan sprung up and started nudging the horse awake while Reinhardt wrapped the blankets tighter around him.

“My apologies, Summoner,” Reinhardt stated, before taking off Stan’s oversized cloak and threading the warmer blankets underneath. “You’ve fallen ill, milady- Summoner, and I need to keep you as warm as possible.”

Stan threaded his arms back through the cloak as it was offered while the horse lumbered back up and questioned, “How come you’re always so concerned about my wellbeing, Reinhardt?”

Reinhardt helped him into the saddle and mounted himself, stating, “Somebody has to be plain with you sometimes- Go! Go!- and, I suppose,- yes, you can wrap your hands around me, and lean forward- I’ll be the one to do so..” A quick glance was sent towards his way, and Reinhardt leaned further, prompting Stan to do the same. “I don’t mind you looping your arms around me, in case you’re wondering; you are quite dear to me. Actually, in general… I feel very close with you. You’re like a troublemaking younger brother I protect.” Stan could practically hear the smile riddled with nostalgia. 

“I have a question for you, however, Summoner: why was I suddenly utilized in battles? You had me sitting around for so long in our barracks.”

Stan put the side of his cheek against Reinhardt’s back to stall before getting a gentle elbow to the side and finally saying, “I liked you… from the very beginning, Reinhardt. Your weapon struck my fancy instantly, but I had to think of a way- I mean- devise a way to utilize it completely. When I finally thought of it I decided to start sending you out in battle.”

“I see, Summoner,” Reinhardt hummed.

They rode on in silence a few more minutes, but then Stan spoke up, stating, “I’m sick of the pedestal I get placed on, you know? I’m sick of how you guys compliment me without me actually doing anything, and I absolutely-” Stan sneezed once, twice, three times- “am sick of the ‘Summoner’ thing. Just call me by my name.”

Reinhardt chuckled, then said, “And what might your name be?”

* * *  
Olivia-

Olivia- in a special, glitzy costume- was the third member. She dances lovely, and listens to Stan cry without complaining; but, in all honesty, anybody could, even the likes of Zelgius or Black Knight (for some reason, Ike and Soren always gives him dirty looks whenever he refers to the two of them in the same sentence. There was probably something Stan was missing, to be honest). With her, she’s very gentle, and loving, but there’s a tiredness in her eyes, and she’ll leak a tear when nobody’s looking. Probably because she lost her husband or Inigo on the battlefield or something. Really, he could summon another one anytime and replace this Olivia, but he doesn’t. Through all of this, though, she’s more of a maternal figure than anything, and it’s weird to imagine sex with her, despite their closeness.

 

Probably through her weird mom powers, she had found out what happened with him and Reinhardt. Or maybe just a weird sixth sense for injured people. Immediately after Stan stepped off the wagon for non-mounted units, she clutched his hand and positively dragged him to the infirmary.

“Woah, woah, Olivia, what’s the matter?” Stan hadn’t been injured in the slightest- Reinhardt had made sure of that, even as they took off multiple times. To eventually realize that the only people chasing them were their allies. Gods, that has been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life here.

She forced him onto one of the beds and began stoking the suspiciously close fireplaces. She probably chose this spot in particular, he noted numbly.

Olivia looked up once she was done and shrugged off the wet coat she had one, stating, “I fear you’ve caught cold. You don’t seem well at all.”

“I’m fine!” Thank Naga he didn’t sneeze during that statement, although he did sneeze three seconds after.

The dancer stepped back over to the bed and slunk next to him. “As your stand-in mother, you really do concern me, darling.” She slid a hand through his wet hair, and began taking off his wet outer layers, leaving him in just a t-shirt and shorts, both from his world.

After sneezing two more times, she looked up and said, “That’s it; I’m getting Peri.” She walked off and yelled for the blue-haired natural disaster of a human being.

He was rather fond of her, but she just couldn’t keep up in his main team against the raw power of Reinhardt. 

The two conversed for however long, and then Stan was knocked out of his stupor by Olivia presenting a bowl of stew to him. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” Stan said as he grabbed the bowl and balanced it in his lap. 

Olivia watched him as he began slurping down the stew, and when he started feeling warm again, he looked up and said, “You seem distressed, Olivia.”

The dancer smiled softly and said, “It wasn’t the war itself that took away the love of my life and my little boys.”

“What happened then?”

“They all fell ill.” Her voice cracked halfway through and Stan couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

He looked down at the half-empty bowl, feeling sobered. “I don’t think a little cold is gonna do me in, Olivia, especially with you around to take care of me.”

She leaned in and brushed away some of his bangs and began feeling his forehead, still maintaining that heartbreaking smile. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re positively burning up. I know that that silly Reinhardt is to blame.”

Stan decided to accept the subject change. “He just thought he was protecting me, and he did a pretty good job of it. For five hours.”

Olivia hummed out a disbelieving note and tapped him on the nose. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for those crazy flier moves, I don’t think Hinoka could have ever caught up to you fellows.” She twirled a braid around and said, almost like a declaration, “I think I’d like to ride a pegasus. I did have the chance to, once… A very dear friend of mine had passed, and all that was left was a piece of a spear and her pegasi. Her daughter, Cynthia, ended up taking up the pegasus, actually. Took after her mothers so much in the air.”

“So, if we just randomly got one, you’d like to ride it?”

“Yes! As long as I could still perform, though. I’m unsure how I could manage, but Azura sometimes puts on an oddly fancy dress and sings on one, doesn’t she? I’d love to become friends with her.” Olivia often talked about the other women in the army, actually, which came across to Stan as pretty weird. Sometimes it was just an envious eye, but other times she would get a sparkle that dimmed far too quickly. Stan thinks she has crushes, which is adorable, but makes him worry for the outcome of her story once the curtains have been drawn and it’s time for everyone to go home.

“I believe it’s called a fundoshi, Olivia.”

“Oh, well.” She smiled. “I do like them- a lot. Azura looks so pretty in hers! And so does Camilla. I really am quite jealous. They’re so gorgeous…”

She sat down gently and watched Stan slurp up the remains of his stew before asking, “How was it?”

“Pretty good. Peri always cooks amazingly. Thank Naga she’s on duty four times a week.”

“Have you ever had Oscar’s cooking, though? It’s not quite Peri’s, but it’s certainly great after a hard battle.”

Stan nodded, not quite registering the words. He realized belatedly, though, he really should’ve after realizing how imposing silence is. Luckily, Olivia quickly snatched up the empty bowl and went down the hall.

After he coughed like the Tempest itself had been infused into his throat, he looked up at Olivia walking back over and said, “Well, I feel a lot better after that stew. Thanks, Olivia!”

Olivia crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow and coughed “yeah right.”

“Okay, I’m not gonna talk or hang around here for it, okay? I don’t wanna hog up bed space.”

The dancer looked around at all the empty beds surrounding the two of them, and shot Stan another, almost near-aggressive eyebrow raise. 

“Alright, um, well, it’s not good for army moral if it gets out that I’m sick.”

“And we’ll worry regardless if you barricade yourself in your room.”

“So? I do it all the time.”

“And we worry every time, dear. Besides, do you really believe that the rumour mill won’t turn out ridiculous stories that are far worse than the truth? We really don’t need another Tharja incident.”

Stan recoiled. “Didn’t we as a whole decide never to talk about the Tharja incident?”

“I know you still get nightmares-”

“Wait, which Tharja incident are we talking about?”

“Um, the ongoing one- the one that started when you summoned her.”

The two of them shuddered collectively. Roaches, twinkies, and Tharja could survive anything; including nuclear fallouts and being thrown back into random worlds multiple times. Stan still swears that he saw her fall into a volcano once and bounce right on back the second he summoned with red orbs.

“Anyway, dear, we don’t need a repeat, do we?”

Stan carefully considered. He thought long and hard, then finally said, “I hate hospitals more than I hate Tharja’s stalker abilities,” and walked away swiftly.

Michalis-

Thus left Michalis.

Michalis was tall and brash and harsh and his hair was like a fiery cascade and his hands, god his hands, and Stan could talk of him forever and not get bored…

But it’s all platonic. Just… just friends. Which is why Stan was bundled up in his room, sniffling, and reminiscing about the older man.

Wait… how old are these people? Nobody celebrated birthdays here (except for the day Stan arrived, which was a day rife with celebration and plenty of orbs coming out of nowhere, which is to be expected, honestly), but he’d always thought of Michalis as the older one. Michalis certainly had a lot more life experience, after all, and- achoo! Michalis was mad at him.

Oh, yes. That part.

Well, turns out, his team had concocted an experiment without Stan knowing. Joshua and Reinhardt were to make sure Stan didn’t lead the army into sure death, Michalis and Olivia were to stay back, and they’d (Joshua) would bet on how badly Stan would lose. 

Have they forgotten that Stan had cascades of strong units at his beck and call? Stan supposed so. He used them for so many major battles…

...but there were still many minor battles where full cavalry or armor walls would be better instead. Sometimes Stan would even forget about his main team and tackle large battles using many Ikes, Robins (possessed and not), on and on like that. Azura and her odd dark-clothed counterpart were present quite often too, along with Lucina, Masked Marth (who spoke in an oddly feminine voice), and Marth. There were far too many other units to count, and Stan knew that his main team at the very least knew of most of them. 

He'd passed Michalis in the hallways, fine as can be, and quickly guessed the rest, at the very least. His units underestimated him way too much. There's a reason why he's here, and it's not just because of luck.

And then, in the middle of his relentless pondering, somebody began pounding on the door quite rudely. 

“H-hey! I’m strategizing in here! Don’t come in!” Stan shouted.

A few seconds later, the door swung open and Michalis stood in the doorway. Stan was still kind of salty about the whole ‘lie-to-your-commander’ thing, but before he could speak, Michalis said:

“Okay, uh…” The tall man looked off to the side, furrowed his eyebrows, and quickly snapped the door shut. “Okay, first off, this is my room. Do you know what my room means?”

Stan was shocked for a moment at the sudden attitude change, then realized that Michalis was probably trying to cover up his embarrassment or disappointment through Selena-like tactics. Even Joshua did that sometimes, come to think of it. Was it a redhead thing? 

“Yeah, but I technically own the entire kingdom, so-”

Michalis strode across the room swiftly and said, “I do apologize. That was a imbecilic thing to say.”

The shorter man felt himself being tugged into a hug suddenly, and Michalis squeezed tighter and tighter and his voice and arms trembled like a 1990’s washing machine and he felt breath slivers pushing past his ears for a few beats. 

God, does Michalis have mood swings. Sometimes Stan wonders how Michalis truly is.

Then, the redhead whispered, “I apologize in general.”

“As a blanket statement?” Stan muttered faciously. 

Michalis’ lips quirked, but then he continued as if Stan hadn't said anything, “I’m… I don’t understand you. We come from different worlds, yes? How are we supposed to understand each other if we come from such different places? I hardly,” he swallowed thickly, “hardly know my own sisters anymore. They went away, and before I knew it, they’d transformed themselves into something better, everyone here is someone better, and you are so much better, and I haven’t changed at all.”

At that, Michalis clutched Stan to his chest and sobbed. Stan’s arms were caught up between their chests awkwardly, but he was more scared of ruining the moment, so he just relaxed into the firm hold. What in the world had brought this on?

A few minutes later, though, Michalis broke the silence again, and said: “I don’t…. I love you, very very dearly. Don't you realize this?” Big hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him back, into eye contact, Michalis’ fingers dashing all around his jawline as it was being cradled. “However, you don’t believe me. Every day, every night, I push myself to become a better person now… for you. I.. I want to be better and better. I’ve stalled and stuttered for far too long. I feel so in love, and you're going to get the best of me, I swear.” 

Michalis sat on the bed, then, leaving Stan standing awkwardly, but Stan followed quickly. After a long moment, Stan uttered, “Do you think anybody’s past being loved?”

The other man’s lips quirked again- like Stan said something funny, although Stan was sure he did not- and he said, “I used to, when I was high on my mount and Iote’s blessing prevented anything from even touching me. As I’d turn to my wyvern, I’d ask her, am I beyond being loved? I knew it was my fault that Minerva hates me. I knew that I had nobody else to blame the day I sent Maria away. I had nothing to say to either of them. You know that feeling, don’t you? That feeling of deep-boned, mind-numbing hatred? I was so angry…”

“That you couldn’t feel anything? That it…” Stan hesitated. He’d jumped right in, without thinking. “That you felt so angered that you felt nothing but chill- coldness crawling up your spine?”

“Yes.” Michalis’ face looked ashen, darkened. He looked far older than any numeric age in that moment, experience dampening every handsome feature until the only visible thing were his eyes, cliché though, glittering with some unknown emotion. Stan thought distantly of the phrase, age is just a number. “The things I’ve done… I wondered, while Marth made his march to the fortress, I wondered: could I ever be redeemed? Could I even feel anything anymore? Then, when he struck me down,” Stan knew the spot very well- an old scar, but it looks horrendous and not very clean at all, and he could only wonder about how painful it really was, “I saw them. Minerva hardly wavered, except-except I saw her fingers twitch. What a strong sister I have. We could’ve been so close…

“But then, I woke up very soon afterwards. I just remember the moments before and after- it felt like a dreamless sleep. Until- until- Maria was there, saying a prayer… I had died, do you know that? Do you, ack... She had- she saw that I was awake, and then she began hugging me and telling me how much she loved her big brother, no matter what happened. And then, I believe, I truly felt love. I am not beyond love, Stan, and neither are you. You haven’t killed- sent to kill and die- half of whom I have, nothing of the sort... “ Stan’s chin was suddenly being held, cradled, again, so tenderly, and Michalis’ brown eyes shown with emotion. “I won’t ever let you go numb, nor cold, nor anything else. I love you too much for that to be the case, ever… I’ll follow you to the ends of this world, and into any others you may find yourself in.”

 

“I- I believe you,” Stan said slowly, and angled himself for a kiss that was sure to come.

* * *

The four of them are gathered up in Joshua's room, and Stan doesn't feel empty. He never feels like there's a void to be filled here, like he does everywhere else. Is it just because he's distracted? Well, he's thinking about it right now, which should annotate actually thinking about it, which means that-

“Darling, you look far too serious tonight,” Olivia says, eyes twinkling. Stan has the awareness to appear embarrassed, at the very least.

“Yes, he does,” Joshua chimes in. “Besides, it's your turn. You know the rules.” 

Stan places a blue seven card on the pile, takes two cards, and grabs a 1 dollar Monopoly money card from the pile. 

“Tsk, tsk, no risks tonight?” Joshua says as he places three red sevens and grabs a 100 dollar piece from the pile. Joshua doesn't really like board games unless there's gambling involved, and Reinhardt loves complexity, and Olivia and Michalis don't really care, so Stan has mixed Uno, Monopoly, poker, The Game of Life, DnD, and some assets that have been borrowed from other, numerous board games, until their Game of Life board is rife with dungeons and dragons and tall buildings that Michalis had precariously created. All in all, Stan's quite proud of his Frankenstein-esk game. 

Michalis throws down fifteen 20 dollar papers, and rolls. Olivia nudges Joshua as Michalis starts cursing, and grabs half the deck angrily. He must've rolled a 1 out of the 100 sides on the dice again.

The other redhead throws his head back and starts emitting a high-pitched squeal- Joshua's form of a laugh. It sounds distinctively like a bat using echolocation, and Michalis looks ready to strangle the source. 

Stan, ever the peacekeeper, says, “I'll take half of that,” and grabs a 100,000 piece for his troubles. Hey, it's one of the rules!

Reinhardt goes, “Hm, nepotism? I'm afraid I'm unaware of what that is,” and Olivia and Joshua both attempt to stifle their giggles. 

Michalis chuckles and says, “Well, what do you have to say to that, Stan?”

The black-haired man crosses his arms and pouts. “Hey, uhhhh… It's your fault that you're handsome!”

A loud chorus of “oh my gods”, “great Naga,” and “Olivia, it's your turn,” rumbled around the room good-naturedly. Stan, even more embarrassed, ducks his head, and Joshua ruffles his hair.

Olivia gently places down a heavily abused yellow 2 Uno card, along with a 500 dollar Monopoly money piece. 

“Hey, that ain't in the rules,” Joshua says as a shoots the dancer a glare.

In turn, she grins and says, “I paid my dues, now I get to place whatever I want down. It's in the rules, dear.”

Stan chances a glance back at Michalis, who’s looking on the scene fondly, as Reinhardt starts rolling some dice. The other teammates’ talk fades out, Stan only concentrating on Michalis.

A small grin is played on his face- Michalis is obviously amused by the proceedings. But, it's more than that… He seems… Happy? The man is very content for sure, but Stan’s always thought that Michalis was incapable of happiness. Lots of close emotions, yes, but not happiness; it just wasn't in his story.

But then, he steals a glance around- everyone seems very happy to be here, playing a ridiculous children's concoction and tossing cards and pieces of plastic at each other. Reinhardt had died in his story, too, just like Michalis had; Oliva has admitted to nearly being driven to the edge after her wife and sons had passed, and Joshua has his own faults, too.

But, but, but- they are happy together, fighting on the battlefield, testing Stan's patience with half-baked plans… Stan realizes, then, that that there's no true 'us’ and 'them’- we're all here together.

Or something of the sort. He's too quickly pegged in the eye by a twenty-sided dice to continue thinking, or even care.

Right before he lunges at Reinhardt for having such terrible aim, he thinks: Hey, I actually belong here.


End file.
